Frohe Weihnachten, Justin Merry Christmas Justin
by Lupin111
Summary: Originally written for the QAF Gift Exchange 2011 on LJ/IJ, for Lego-4ever.    Jealous Justin, Christmas setting


**A/N: **Originally written for the QAF Gift Exchange 2011 on LJ/IJ, for **Lego-4ever**. I was under some severe stress in November & December, so this is not really a very well written story. Anyways, enjoy!

Wishing you all the very best for 2012!

* * *

><p>Justin considered himself a reasonable person. Calm of temper. Easy going in nature. Reasonable in disposition. All-round helpful. Sure, he had his faults, but he strived hard not to make others suffer for it. That just wouldn't be <em>right<em>. He just wasn't brought up that way.

Nevertheless, sitting in the airport lounge, trying to drown out the sounds of howling children and irate passengers, Justin felt himself operating on a diminished supply of goodwill.

Unbeknown to Brian, he had purchased his plane ticket from New York to Pittsburgh months ago. There had been a special promotion, and it was too good a deal not to resist. Of course, it had been non-refundable, but there had been no doubt in Justin's mind as to where he would be spending his Christmas, so he had bought the ticket without hesitation.

Justin hated New York. Well, not exactly. There were things he loved about New York. But he hated living there. Alone. Away from his friends. Away from his family. Away from Brian. It was all such bullshit. He had wanted to be an _animator_. Instead, here he was, trying to be an _artist. _What a crock of shit. He would always be an artist, whatever city he lived in. Did he _really_ need to live in New York to prove that point?

Weakness. That was what this was all about. Too weak to tell Brian that he would rather be in Pittsburgh than in New York. Too weak to tell Lindsay and Brian and his mother and everyone that he'd rather follow his dreams for himself than live up to everyone else's dreams for him. Too weak, essentially, to _appear_ weak. Too weak to let the world know that he, Justin Taylor, wanted to do things with his life that they might find disappointing.

A combination of all of the above had resulted in him having to swallow a considerable financial loss.

Because Ted and Blake had announced that they were getting married, and Justin had figured that it would cost him the price of dry cleaning his suit and an evening of his time in some hotel in Pittsburgh. He was game for that; he was ever-ready for an excuse to run back to Pittsburgh.

But noooo. Could Ted and Blake do _anything_ to accommodate his needs? Of course not. So not only did they decide to get married in fucking _Germany_, where, apparently, Blake's family was from, but they decided to do so slap bang in the middle of December, to coincide with Christmas.

Brilliant.

And of course, they invited him.

Worse still, Brian had decided to attend the wedding.

That really didn't leave Justin with much choice.

By hook or by crook, he had to haul his ass to Germany.

Brian, non-existent gods bless his soul, had offered to pay for Justin's ticket. Justin, of course, wouldn't hear of it. New York meant independence, and that meant paying for himself.

Which, of course, meant, swallowing the loss of the original plane ticket to Pittsburgh, and pulling money out of a mysterious hat to pay for a fresh ticket to Germany. FUCK his life.

Plus, last minute wedding plans meant last minute tickets. Why else would any sane person, of able mind and body, choose to fly Air Transat?

Justin glanced at the crying child closest to him, and contemplated the impropriety of offering to take care of the child on behalf of the clearly incapable parent. He decided against it, and instead, stuffed his headphones deeper into his ears, as if that could drown out the noises around him.

Saving money for an unexpected plane ticket (and spending money in Germany) meant that he had taken public transport all the way to the airport. Because of that, Justin had arrived hours earlier, since he had been afraid of all kinds of things going wrong and him missing his flight.

He got through check in, security etc without a problem, and had arrived at the lounge, just before boarding. He had assumed that he was all set. But what a sight that awaited him! The place was PACKED. Justin's quick eye told him immediately that there were waaaay more people here than for just one, or even two flights. Something told him that this didn't bode well, but he nevertheless found himself a seat somehow, and decided to watch the news for a while on the overhead screen. He had a good three hours to go, anyway.

Justin didn't know how much time had passed before he noticed the weather crawlers at the bottom of the screen.

Red alert in New York State for severe snowstorms. Also, as if anyone cared, there was an alert for snowstorms in southern Ontario and Quebec. Who gave a shit about fucking Ontario and Quebec?

Justin's head snapped up, and suddenly, he noticed that he couldn't see anything outside of the glass panes – rain or snow or some blasted form of precipitation outside was determined to ruin his life. He walked over, pressing his nose against the glass. Snow had turned into hail, and it was beating hard against glass.

His ears finally tuned into sounds other than crying babies, and he heard the announcements cancelling flights, and for the lucky few, announcing uncertain delays.

Justin listened numbly as they announced that a flight to Spain was indefinitely delayed because the pilot had to fly in from Montreal, and all flights in and out of Montreal were grounded. For the second time, Justin wondered as to who gave a shit about flights from Canada, while they were trying to sort out their plans in New York.

He was absolutely not willing to give up his hard-earned Christmas break with Brian, Schmidt-Wyzecki nuptials notwithstanding. But it seemed as if the weather gods had other plan in mind for him. Justin had been stuck in the lounge for (what seemed to him) like an eternity. For the millionth time, he pulled out his BlackBerry to check if there were any new messages from Brian.

There weren't.

Justin's finger twitched nervously as he scrolled back to the previous messages from Brian.

_German men are fucking hot. You should have listened to me and gotten an earlier flight here. Poor Sunshine's missing all the fun!_

Before that, there was:

_Leaving Frankfurt. I must say, it's a good thing we listened to the professor and picked rail over driving. What's the Eurorail version of the Mile High Club?_

And then before that:

_I think Mel's teaching Gus German. He can get directions from the locals better than Blake. Mikey won't let Blake hear the end of it. When's your flight arriving here again?_

And several other messages in the same vein.

Justin felt the familiar feeling of jealousy wash over him, and in his present state of misery, he didn't bother trying to push it away. He was missing _everything_. His friends, their moments, Brian. In a word, everything. And of course, the longer he was away, the less Brian would miss him.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder?

Nope. Forgetful. Absence makes the heart forgetful. It certainly didn't sound like Brian was missing him. It sounded like Brian was having fun, fun, _fun. _

A noise akin to a herd of cattle rushing past him made Justin look up, and he noticed that half the passengers in the lounge seemed to be flocking around one counter. Then he realized that they were finally starting the boarding of his flight. The sooner he would be in Germany, the sooner he could put to rest all his queasy feelings about Brian and all the fun he was having without Justin.

* * *

><p>Justin had hoped for a peaceful nine hour flight. He knew he was worked up; he knew that for as long as he was awake, he would only get more agitated.<p>

As soon as he found his seat, he had sent Brian a message:

_Finally boarding! Hallelujah! Will be there soon. How goes?_

Justin had edited that message four times before sending it. He wanted to sound excited, but not needy. He wanted to know what Brian was doing and more importantly, how Brian was feeling, but didn't want to appear as if he was keeping tabs. Justin sighed. This whole fucking thing was slowly driving him insane. Of that, he was certain.

He discreetly glanced at his phone. No reply. Justin wondered how soon it would be before the announcement was made asking passengers to switch off their cellular and other electronic devices. Would he receive a message before then? Nine hours was going to be a long fucking wait otherwise.

Before the captain made the announcement that Justin was dreading, however, there was a slightly different announcement. They announced that there was going to be no in-flight entertainment, as they were expecting headsets were from Montreal, and due to the weather and all the flight cancellations, no actual headsets had arrived. Justin hadn't particularly planned on watching the in-flight movie, so at this stage, the announcement only served to amuse him, and he wondered if he should use that as an excuse to send another text. He decided that a barrage of messages to Brian may not really serve his desired purpose, and thought the better of it.

At some point in between all of this, Justin noticed a tall, blonde, gentleman who seemed to be in his late 30s or early 40s fit his luggage in the overhead compartment and seat himself next to Justin.

Justin checked his phone _again. _This time, his perseverance was rewarded by the blinking red light. He excitedly fumbled through the buttons, only to find that the message was from Michael.

_Thank heavens you're finally boarding. We were getting worried there for a while. Remember to ask for gum before take-off. Blocked ears can be a bitch. And put on a sticker asking them to wake you for meals or you'll be hungry, but try and get as much sleep as you can. See you soon! _

As grateful and amused as Justin was to read that, he felt a rather strong twinge of disappointment that the message wasn't from Brian. At any rate, Justin responded back immediately.

_Lol, thanks for the advice! Will do ;) What are you guys up to?_

"Sir, could you please switch off your cell phone and wear your seatbelt? We're about to take off."

_Fuck. _He must have missed the announcement. Now he was going to miss Michael's response. Goddamit.

"They made the announcement while you were texting."

Justin looked at his companion, and managed to muster a smile.

"Hallo. My name is Bruno. You are?"

Now that there was an outstretched hand in his direction, Justin had no choice but to exercise his manners and shake hands, introducing himself. Given the accent, Bruno seemed clearly German, but a polite inquiry informed Justin that Bruno was actually Austrian.

Justin adjusted his pillow and blanket, hoping to send a clear signal that he had certain plans for the next nine hours, but Bruno seemed oblivious to it.

He prattled on, and to Justin's horror, he found out that not only was he doomed to sit beside Bruno for the entire flight to Frankfurt, but he and Bruno were apparently booked on the same damn train to Munich. _ Oh, joy._ Bruno was then travelling onwards to Austria.

Justin smiled congenially, and turned to the window, trying to grab some shuteye and dream of Brian. But fate had other plans for him. It was the worst. Flight. EVER. The turbulence was ridiculous. There were very few things that Justin could do, but sleep was definitely not one of them. He stared in horror at the tiny window, as the clouds flashed every few minutes. Lightning, lightning and lightning.

Justin was starting to almost wish that his flight had been cancelled. The first two episodes of _Lost _were playing in a loop inside his head, and all Justin could think was that he didn't tell Brian he loved him before take-off, in his now seemingly stupid desire to appear nonchalant. He would quite possibly die in this cross Atlantic flight, and he had been too concerned with appearances to tell the most important person in his life that he loved him.

At this point, Bruno intruded on his thoughts, and commented that "At times like this, you really need God in your life."

Justin stared at Bruno, too surprised to speak. Bruno took that as encouragement enough. He announced to Justin that he was a Jehovah's Witness, and regaled Justin with details on how his life improved exponentially after he discovered the one true religion and God, his almighty savior.

Justin had always been taught to be polite, and he wasn't at all sure how to politely get Bruno to shut the fuck up. He reached for the first excuse – a migraine – and was mortified when Bruno smilingly offered him an entire bottle of extra strength Tylenol, made especially for migraine sufferers.

Now Justin realized how much he was going miss not having an in-flight movie.

Apparently, Bruno had pretty much given up on getting married, but thanks to his religion, he had found true love. Justin briefly wondered if Bruno would offer counseling to Brian and himself. Then he dismissed the thought. What Brian and he needed was to live in the same fucking city, not help of god. Or Bruno.

Justin also wondered about the state of his luck that while Brian was fucking random hot Germans inside trains, he was stuck with Bruno, who could only sing hosannas about the good lord above. FML, Justin thought.

His luck truly had run out, because Bruno did _not _stop talking. In the nine hour flight, Justin got to sleep just once. Every few minutes, Bruno would find something new to chat about.

Every few minutes, Justin wondered how sharp the cutlery actually was.

* * *

><p>By the time Justin finally landed in Frankfurt, Bruno was lucky to consider himself alive. At any rate, Justin lost him soon enough, because while every other passenger was busy trying to rush to customs or pick up their luggage or a combination thereof, all Justin cared about was switching on his phone and waiting for messages from Brian. Or Michael. Or, at this point, pretty much <em>anyone. <em>

Of course, after reading his messages, Justin wasn't sure how he should be feeling.

There were a grand total of two messages from Brian.

The first said:

_We're leaving for the castle now, because the blushing grooms have shit to do there. Since some smart alec blonde insisted on making his own way here, Blake has made arrangements for you to come here with his cousin from Munich. He said he'll text you the details. Next time, stop being such a stubborn fuckwit._

The castle. _Fuck fuck fuck! _Because Ted and Blake couldn't have a normal wedding like normal people, they were actually having the ceremony in a fucking _castle. _Folkenstein or Falkenstein or some such. The plan had to be to get a flight directly to Munich, meet up with the gang, and travel with them to the castle. But because Justin was paying for his own way, he had had to wait until the last minute to buy his ticket (because he had to wait to get paid). Which meant that he arrived later than everybody else, and because tickets that flew directly to Munich were expensive, Justin was landing in Frankfurt and then taking the train to Munich.

Now, apparently, he was going to miss the gang even more, because they were travelling ahead of him. Justin felt tears of frustration pricking the back of his eyes. All he had wanted to do was act like an adult and not a needy child who had to be looked after. And now, because of that, he was missing out on everything. Trips were fun events. Travelling with a group of close friends always made it even more fun. There were always crazy shenanigans, unexpected detours and just all kinds of good stuff. Brian was banging random German men, Gus was speaking German, Michael was teasing Blake, Ted was freaking out, and he, Justin, was missing it all. It wasn't _fair._

To top it off, Brian had ended up being annoyed with him anyway, and doubtless considered Justin to be a child despite everything.

He looked at the second message from Brian:

_Blake's family looks as good as he does. If I'm lucky, and I always am, there's gonna be plenty stops between here and Falkenstein. _

Justin grimaced. _Exactly _what he needed to read._ Not. _And that was it. Two messages of mostly nothing from Brian. He wondered if Brian would have time to say hello to him when Justin finally managed to get to the damn castle, or whether he'd be too busy looking for Blake's good looking family.

There were two messages from Blake and three from Ted, containing identical instructions on whom he was to call and how he was to travel.

There was one message from Lindsay and Melanie saying that they missed him.

There was one from Emmett saying that he should have just allowed Brian to pay for him.

There were five from Michael, saying all kinds of things and kindly omitting details of Brian's antics.

Lastly, there was a message from Ben, saying that he needn't respond to all of Michael's questions, and to just find his way safely to Falkenstein.

Justin wanted to cry.

* * *

><p>The entire train ride to Munich, he didn't receive a single message from Brian. There were a few from Blake, making sure that Justin was on time and heading in the right direction. Justin was grateful, but it didn't help ease the jealousy, frustration and tension.<p>

And Michael. Poor Michael sent him messages every twenty minutes or so. Always cheerful, always keeping him posted on everyone's latest antics, always avoiding any mention of who Brian was shagging and always trying to make Justin feel included.

And those messages made Justin feel even worse than the lack of messages from Brian. The more things Michael told him, the more left out he felt. The less Michael mentioned Brian, the more Justin thought that it must be because what was happening was unmentionable to Justin, especially given Michael's ideas of what was appropriate and what was not.

It was the perfect recipe for all kinds of unwanted ideas to foment inside Justin's already high-strung brain. By the time he got off the train in Munich, Justin had cried twice, drafted five different texts to Brian, all of which were deleted before he accidentally sent them, drafted two messages to Michael asking for the truth, also which got deleted and he had drafted one message to Emmett asking him to spy for him before deleting that as well.

In short, Justin was a jealous, nervous, tired, jet-lagged wreck.

And his journey _still _wasn't over.

Finally, he was in Munich. Deciding that he'd rather be safe than sorry, Justin stopped a random man and asked him, in tourist-phrase-book German, which way it was to the subway (he couldn't afford to pay taxi fare in Euros, so he was sticking to all forms of cheap transportation).

The man replied, in accented English, "Come, I shall show you."

Justin, relieved, thanked him and proceeded to follow.

"Where are you travelling from? You are from America?"

"Yes, I'm from America. Here for a friend's wedding. I just came in from Frankfurt, actually."

"Aaah, yes. Frankfurt is very nice. But Munich, it is more scenic here, I think. My name is Feroz. I'm originally from Morocco, but have been here now for almost five years. It is a beautiful country."

Justin smiled. He really did want to be nice to this helpful gentleman, but his brain had stopped working about three hours ago. "I'm Justin" was all he could manage.

"Well, Justin, this is the platform. You take the escalator down, board the train on the right hand side of the escalator and get off at the fourth stop and you will arrive at your destination."

"Oh Feroz, thank you so much for your help."

"If you do not mind Justin, may I offer to take you out for a beer?"

Justin blinked twice, unsure that he heard Feroz right. But from the expression on Feroz's face, he apparently had. In other circumstances, Justin would have accepted without thinking twice about it. But today, he couldn't do that. The more he thought of the fun Brian was having, the more perverse was Justin's need to punish himself for getting into this situation.

"Thanks, Feroz. I'd really love to, but I'm already almost two hours late, and I have people who are waiting for me, so I really can't. Thank you so much for you offer, and again, thanks for your help."

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, Justin was finally knocking on the door of Blake's cousin.<p>

Justin was in for a mild surprise. First, he had been expecting Blake's cousin to be German. Instead, Blake's cousin, George, was as American as he was. George, together with his equally American girlfriend Ellen, was apparently studying in Munich on an exchange student program. Their German was only several notches above Justin's, and like him, they were the only ones from the guest list to still not have made their way to Falkenstein. Their exams had just finished, and the two of them looked as exhausted as Justin felt.

It was only at this point that Justin realized that Falkenstein was a good two hour drive from Munich. As tired as everyone was, Justin was dying to urge George and Ellen to start the drive immediately, but they had different plans. The journey was to start only the following day, after lunch. Justin wanted to object, but knew that it would be futile as well as rude. He resigned himself to a dinner of sandwiches and the couch. And his phone.

At long last, there was a message from Brian:

_Everything they say about German cuisine? All true. Goddamn schnitzel, potatoes and sauerkraut is all they fucking eat. When I get back to Pittsburgh, I might have to stop eating all together for a month. The exercise I'm getting is not nearly enough to ward off the fat. Did you get to George's? Nice dude. Ellen's a shrew._

Justin lost his cool at that moment, for no particularly good reason. Certainly, in retrospect, he did realize that were he to be catty, he should have done so considerably earlier. But Justin didn't have the benefit of hindsight, so he typed up a short message to Brian and hit send before he could think. It read:

_How are the men in Falkenstein? More your area of interest rather than cuisine, I would presume._

It was a stupid message to send, but it was done.

No reply. As expected. Justin responded to Michael's messages, assured Blake and Ted that he was fine and would finally be there tomorrow, and went to sleep. He woke up the next day to a response from Brian.

_The men in Falkenstein are like the castle. You'll see what I mean when you get here. _

And what the fuck did that exactly mean? Justin had no clue, so he decided to get mad at Brian for being so infuriatingly cryptic. No doubt there was some latent meaning of sexual conquest and bucket loads of fun hidden in it, but Justin was too annoyed to look for it. Being jealous and crabby was a feeling that he was way more accustomed to by now.

From the general chitchat with George and Ellen (and Brian was right, she _was _a shrew), Justin gathered that the wedding was going to be in two parts, in two locations. First there was to be a church ceremony (Justin was thoroughly confused as to who, between Ted and Blake, was the believer) followed by a lunch for everyone at some inn or restaurant that was adjoining the church. After that, there was to be a reception at the famed castle, which was where Brian and the gang were currently staying.

And finally, he would be with the rest of the gang. With Brian. Justin couldn't wait.

* * *

><p>Mentally, emotionally and physically, Justin was exhausted. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep in the car and woke up only hours later, to the sound of George and Ellen arguing.<p>

"I _told _you to check with Blake before you left."

"Ellen, I _did. _You were there. How was I supposed to tell the difference between one straße and another?"

"Well, you should have checked before programming the GPS. I can't believe we're going to waste even more gas."

The feelings that Justin had experienced in the airport lounge was starting to bubble forth. "Um, guys, what's going on? Are we lost?"

"No no, we're not lost. Ellen's just panicking. I entered the wrong address into the GPS, and we ended up at the church instead of the castle. Don't worry, I'll just input the address for the castle, and then we're good to go."

"How far is the castle from here?"

"About twenty minutes."

Overcome by excitement, Justin typed a hurried message to Brian:

_Twenty minutes and I'll be there. Woohooo!_

"Have you guys been here before?"

"Oh no. George and I have just much too much to do with studying and shit. We've hardly done any travelling at all."

George seemed to be done programming the GPS, because an electronically female voice started to give instructions in German, and they were off. Knowing George and Ellen's command of German, Justin peered into the front, and saw the map on screen that they seemed to be taking their cues from.

"Wow, there isn't a living soul on the streets, is there? Not even a cat or a dog." Justin mused.

"And not a cow or a sheep, either. This is really a small town. Aside from the castle, it's mostly for passing through onto Regensburg, which is a much bigger town, and with bigger tourist attractions." Ellen offered.

They would have driven for maybe ten minutes before George brought the car to a slow stop.

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

Once again, Justin shifted positions, so that he could see what George was looking at.

Dead ahead, he could see that the road they were on was closed for construction. There was simply no way to go past that road. It was a narrow laneway, just barely enough for two vehicles, and George struggled to turn the vehicle around.

"What now?" Justin asked dumbly.

"We'll take a different turn; the GPS should readjust and give us new directions."

It seemed like an excellent idea when George said it, and for the first five minutes, it seemed like the GPS did exactly that. Until, through a different set of narrow lanes, it led the vehicle right back to the same blocked road.

"Oh come on, George, just reprogram the damn thing!"

"Ellen, you try reprogramming it! My German isn't _that _good. I don't understand why it isn't redirecting."

"Ugh. Just try again."

And George did. Different routes, three different times. And all the GPS did was redirect them right back to the same goddamn road. Justin was feeling so frustrated at this point that he would have cried publicly. He was so fucking close and _still _couldn't manage to get to Brian and the gang.

"This is ridiculous. Ellen, call Blake. Or Christian."

"My phone doesn't have any signals. Give me yours. Fuck. Yours doesn't have any signals either. Justin, do you have a phone that actually works?"

_Fuck._

"I have roaming only for messaging. I can message Blake."

"Just brilliant. Well, you do that. Stupid technology. We should have just brought a map."

"Yes well, we don't _have _a map. I'm just going to randomly drive down that road. If we get far enough from here, the GPS _has _to adjust and give us different directions."

And that's what they did. George had to drive for almost fifteen minutes before the GPS started giving them new directions. Before long though, Justin – and George and Ellen – started getting nervous. _Very _nervous. The GPS was telling them to drive straight. There were no road signs, no hints of life anywhere about. As far as Justin was concerned, it was the most backwater German road EVER. And he wasn't at all sure that the road was leading them to the castle.

"George, where are we going?"

"I don't know Ellen; I'm just going as the GPS is telling me to."

Justin's phone vibrated.

Brian.

_Where the fuck are you? You should have been here forty minutes ago. Why the fuck can't anyone call any of the three of you? _

After checking with George and Ellen, it was established that only Justin's phone had signals. So as clearly as possible, Justin wrote an explanation to Brian, detailing their predicament.

_Describe exactly where you are. Christian is going to give you directions._

That was Brian's next instruction.

"Who's Christian?"

"Blake's half brother."

Right. Blake had a half-brother. Of course. It made perfect sense that Justin knew nothing about this. Justin wondered if Brian had slept with him. Maybe Brian was with Christian right now. Maybe that was why Christian was going to –

"Tell him we just passed a factory that said 'Schindler'." Ellen's voice interrupted Justin's internal horror movie reel.

Right.

_We're driving on a road parallel to the river. Nothing but lots of trees on the other side. Just passed a factory (we think) that had a sign that said 'Schindler'_

Surprisingly, Brian's response was almost immediate.

_What river? The Danube? No one knows of a factory. Are you heading towards Regensburg? _

"Guys, is this the Danube? It's too small for that, right?"

"W_ay _too small to be the Danube. Maybe a tributary."

_We don't think it's the Danube. Maybe a tributary. We have no idea if we're heading toward Regensburg. First road sign after miles is warning us, we think, of school kids. Or a school bus. Or a school nearby. We're not quite sure._

Brian's response wasn't nearly as quick as the previous one.

_Nobody has any clue where you are. Keep me posted on anything you see. Use your head and be pushy. George and Ellen aren't the sharpest tools in the shed. _

It was another twenty minutes before they reached what seemed like civilization, and all three of them were able to figure out that they were somewhere near the vicinity of the elusive castle. Ellen's phone was the first to pick up a signal, and she frantically dialed Christian. By then, though, they had reasonably figured out the route the GPS had mapped out, and finally, the map onscreen gave street names and the three of them were pretty much able to figure things out on their own.

At long last,the castle was in sight. It was, quite literally, on top of a hill (as any sensible castle would be located, Justin thought to himself). George complained that the parking lot was located 2/3rds of the way up the hill, meaning that they would have to walk the balance distance, baggage in tow. Justin didn't care. He would have walked up the entire hill if it meant that he would finally get to be with Brian.

Trekking up the hill, Justin felt that he was just completing a triathlon. He then remembered another similar event, standing in the snow, waiting for Brian to appear in the distance. The memory of it was enough for a tear to trickle down his face, and Justin wiped it away discreetly.

And then he saw Brian.

On the path leading up to the castle, stood Brian, brows furrowed, talking to another man.

It was mere seconds before Justin was in his arms, so overcome by relief that he couldn't say anything at all.

* * *

><p>"That was quite an adventure you had. I would have <em>totally <em>freaked out."

Justin smiled at Michael. "Believe me, we were all quite freaked out. I think we were all thinking that we were on the road that would lead us straight into _The Hostel._"

He was feeling considerably better, hours after his road trip ordeal, not that it was a true ordeal by any stretch of the imagination. Justin was quite able to understand that his precarious state of mind just might have added fuel to a nonexistent fire.

They were seated on the floor in the hallway outside the rooms. As soon as Justin had arrived, Brian had whisked him into the shower, and by the time that Justin was done, there was a meal waiting for him, after which Brian insisted that he sleep. Of course, no nap time was complete without pre-nap activity. There had been very little conversation as such between the two of them, and for now, Justin was ok with that.

It was considerably later that Justin found out that the man Brian had been with was the mysterious Christian. Who was balding, chubby and about forty. The chances of Brian actually sleeping with Christian were slim to none. Mostly none. Even Justin, in the midst of his jealous best, had to admit to that fact.

Justin also found out, discreetly through Michael, that Brian had chosen to stay behind at the castle and await Justin's arrival, instead of going sightseeing with the rest of the gang to Regensburg. Right now, part of the group had returned, and Brian was playing with Gus while Mel and Lindz were…actually, Justin had no clue where Mel and Lindz were. JR was fast asleep, between Michael and Justin.

"Thanks Michael, for your descriptive messages. They sure kept me entertained, even if you did omit part of the details." Justin smiled at the other man.

Michael looked at him in surprise. "What? What did I forget to tell you?"

"Oh come on, Michael."

Michael stared blankly at Justin.

"Brian. You said almost nothing about him, or any of his shenanigans."

"What shenanigans? All he did was play with Gus, sleep or complain endlessly about the food and the weather and the hotels and…I'm sorry, I didn't want you to get upset that he was just being such a grouch and bringing everyone down."

Justin stared at Michael.

"Really?"

"Yeah…but…" something akin to enlightenment dawned on Michael's face. "But he's been way better now that you're here. Jeez, I'm such an idiot. Brian was actually missing you and here I was giving him shit for being such a downer. I feel like such a fool."

"You and I both." Justin mumbled, his feelings going all over the place.

"The two of you together is almost never a good idea. You can brainstorm for Rage later. Come Sunshine, I'm feeling the sudden urge to –"

"Ugh, we know! Go, go. Sheesh. There are children here!" Michael was shaking his head, but grinning at the same time.

"To nap. I'm sleepy." Brian said flippantly, as he grabbed Justin's hand and dragged him to their room.

* * *

><p>Justin felt Brian's breath on the back of his neck, and he pushed himself further into Brian's body, trying to make their two bodies one.<p>

"I completely forgot…tomorrow's Christmas."

"Hmmmm." Brian mumbled.

"Brian. I didn't bring you anything. I mean…I was going to, but I couldn't find anything right and…the tickets…"

"Shhh…stop talking. I don't need anything. Didn't get you anything either."

Justin was silent for a few minutes.

"Brian?"

"Are we still talking?"

"I want to come home."

"I did get an extra ticket to Pittsburgh, just in case."

"I want to come home for good."

There as a moment's silence.

"I think a mover can be arranged without a problem."

Justin felt Brian's arm tighten around his waist.

"Merry Christmas, Justin."


End file.
